


Bubbles and Bruises

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bathtubs, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Sex, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Netflix and Chill, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, playful banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 18:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: “'So Daddy wants to undress me like I'm a present even though it's my birthday?' You raise your arms obediently when Aomine takes the soft weave of your shirt between his fingers and begins to peel it away from your skin. The fabric catches on your hair for a brief moment but Aomine's quick to smooth the unruly strands back into place." It's your birthday and Aomine does everything he can to make sure that it's one you'll remember.





	Bubbles and Bruises

“It wasn't really that disturbing,” you say through a mouthful of popcorn. “I've seen much worse.” You look at Aomine who's occupying the space at your side and nearly choke on the snack before it makes its way down your throat. He's sitting with poor posture, his feet digging into the edge of the couch and his knees spread open lackadaisically. His mouth is slack and his complexion has gone ashy under a veil of unwelcome emotion. “Daiki, are you okay? It can't have bothered you that much...”

Aomine exercises his jaw briefly before closing his mouth and sweeping his tongue over his lips, his gaze still a touch too vacant to be anything but a reflection of his distance. “What did you say?” he asks, finally turning to face you directly. He slides back against the couch cushions and absentmindedly scoots closer to you.

“You're scared!” you exclaim over the dramatic crescendo of the movie's end credits.

“I am not!” Aomine counters, sliding his feet off of the couch and down to the floor. “I just liked the first movie better, that's all.”

“I should have known better. You never could make it through a scary movie without feeling the aftereffects,” you tell him, the truth of the statement weighing heavy on implication. “It wasn't fair of me to make you watch this.”

“I'm not that scared!” Aomine argues, running a hand down and over the back of his neck. “I'm not a kid. 'Sides, it's your birthday, I told you to pick what you wanted.” A loud noise penetrates the walls of the living room and Aomine jolts violently, then frowns when he realizes it was merely the sound of a car door closing outside. “Okay, maybe I'm a little rattled but it's nothing more than that. I'll forget about it soon enough. It wasn't even _good_.”

You smile softly and run a hand through Aomine's short strands. “Being scared after watching a _scary_ movie is normal. It doesn't make you a kid and it doesn't make you any less macho. It's okay to be honest with me. You're just not good with this kind of thing. We'll stick with action films and dramas from here on out.”

Aomine leans into your touch and his eyes dip half-closed as a result of your affection. You drag the edges of your nails down the line of his scalp and you think you can almost hear him purring somewhere low in his chest. “I'm always honest with you,” Aomine says, his voice thick with honey and slow like molasses.

“This is coming from the boy who told me that he was suffering from an arbitrary bout of insomnia after spending _two_ nights unable to sleep because he played _Silent Hill_. We all have weaknesses and you don't like anything that relates to horror—just admit it.”

Aomine groans and lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are heavy-lidded and the lines of his lashes are thick and dark beneath the shadows playing tag across his face. “Do you really need me to deprecate my masculinity to please you? Would it make you happy?” He leans forward and ghosts the shape of your lips with the soft of his own. “You know what I think? I think you're a sadist.”

You laugh and drape your arms around Aomine's neck, pulling him into a lopsided stance when you clumsily press your mouths together in a playful kiss. “I'm not a sadist, I'm just brutally honest.” You lift your feet away from the floor and drape your legs over Aomine's bent knees. “Anyway, for what it's worth, I don't think you could detract from your manliness if you tried. You're hardy and gallant and your voice is deep enough to vibrate static matter. Not to mention, you're hung like a horse.”

“Are you trying to say that I'd be hideous in a dress?” Aomine asks you as he rests a hand over the bareness of your calves.

“Baby, you'd make an appalling woman,” you answer, wearing an expression of put-on indifference and biting back laughter.

“Who said anything about being a woman?” Aomine shakes his head and stares out across the room blankly. “There goes my surprise for our next date. I guess I'll have to return the negligee and stilottis I bought.”

You stare at him fixedly for a quiet moment before a wealth of laughter bubbles up the dark of your throat and into sound. “ _What?_ You watch porn like the average person watches Netflix and you don't know the difference between...you know what? Forget it. I love you for you and it doesn't matter.” You reach out and grab Aomine's shirt for leverage as you pull yourself up enough to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Speaking of, do you want to watch another movie?”

“I'm good with movies for now,” Aomine confirms. “Why don't we take a bath together, since I'm ninety-nine percent certain that you used my hair to clean the popcorn dust from your fingers.”

“I didn't _not_ wipe my hands in your hair...” you tease, smiling when Aomine shoots you a look that spells a nonverbal challenge.

“If it wasn't your birthday and I didn't love you so much I'd be teaching you a lesson right about now.” Aomine slips out from beneath the weight of your legs and stretches his arms toward the ceiling prior to offering you his hand. “Come on, Princess. I'll even add the bubbles that you like.”

“I have to admit” –you take Aomine's hand and let him pull you up and into standing– “I'm curious as to what that lesson would entail. And really? You hate those bubbles.”

“I don't _hate_ them. I just feel like I smell like a French whore when I get out of the tub. That and they make my balls itch.” Aomine leads you down the hall and into the bathroom as if you don't already know the way and gestures for you to sit down on the toilet. “Hang out there while I get things ready.”

“Hang out on the toilet like you do every morning? Got it.” You lower the toilet seat and sit down, your hands folded in your lap. You look around the room for lack of a better thing to do and notice the corner of a magazine sticking out of the basket of towels adjacent to where you're seated. “Don't tell me that that's what I think it is,” you say, turning to look at Aomine. He's leaning over the edge of the tub and within seconds of your resounding question, the sound of rushing water meets your ears. “Sorry, I can't hear you. You're going to have to wait a minute.”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, knowing all too well that Aomine's avoiding the question and that the magazine half-buried in rolls of cotton is chock-full of naked women. “Wait a second! Are you saying that I smell like a French whore?” you ask, suddenly reverting back to Aomine's earlier statement.

“No, it smells nice on you but I don't like the way it smells on me. It's no different than my cologne—you think I smell good all the time but you thought it smelled like bug repellent on you, remember?” Aomine steps away from the tub and quickly strips out of his shirt, dropping it to the floor before moving onto his bottoms.

“We have a hamper in here for a reason,” you scold and reach for the hem of your shirt.

“I'll get it when we're done,” Aomine tells you. “You're such a nag today. I'm glad that your birthday only comes around once a year,” he needles, then he looks at you and addresses you directly. “Hey, leave that on. I want to undress you.” He kicks away the ball of clothing collected at his feet and makes his way over to you without a stitch of modesty or self-conscious aware.

“So Daddy wants to undress me like I'm a present even though it's _my_ birthday?” You raise your arms obediently when Aomine takes the soft weave of your shirt between his fingers and begins to peel it away from your skin. The fabric catches on your hair for a brief moment but Aomine's quick to smooth the unruly strands back into place.

“I'm just helping. It's my responsibility to take extra care of you today. I promise that I'll give you something in return a bit later.” Aomine deftly removes your bra and tosses it aside with an air of duplicity for the garment. “I just don't understand why girls feel the need to hide their tits. It's like concealing an invaluable centerpiece. It's just not a thing you should do.” Aomine takes the soft weight of your breasts in his hands and massages them in a way that's breathtakingly intimate. “You don't like being smashed down all day, do you?”

You laugh and shove at Aomine's hands, “Quit talking to my tits and undress me before the tub overflows.”

“Fine but someone needs to make them feel better. You're not treating them with the respect they deserve,” Aomine says with all the seriousness of a parent to a misbehaving child.

When you finally make it into the tub, the water is a step from sweltering and the bubbles are so high that they spill over the porcelain and onto the floor. Still and all, the experience is well worth the impending cleanup. Aomine washes you like time bears no importance and every inch of your skin is crafted from spun sugar. He peppers kisses along the soapy curves of your shoulders and nips affectionately at the nape of your neck. He caresses your breasts and teases the veiled folds of your sex but despite his growing need, he keeps his salacious desires calm and sticks to the task at hand.

You don't leave the comforts of the tub until the heat of the water goes to your heads and the natural tinge of your complexions have blossomed into that of a sunburn. Aomine dresses you in his favorite tee and, _unsurprisingly_ , a pair of revealing panties that only exist for special occasions. You deal with the mess that's become your hair while Aomine cleans up the mess on the bathroom floor.

Your ability to work in unison is surprisingly efficient and by the time night draws its curtains and stipples the sky with tiny balls of light, you're back on the couch wrapped in a blanket and Aomine is in the kitchen preparing you a special dinner.

Which in actuality has little to do with Aomine's cooking skills— _or lack thereof_ —and more to do with a pre-cooked meal he picked up from a local restaurant, complete with a list of simple instructions. Nonetheless, the food is delicious and the conversation you share between bites is enough in itself to make the meal worth remembering.

You watch another movie after dinner but you don't quite make it to the end because Aomine's sucking a line of bruises into the flesh along the column of your throat halfway through the plot's weak narrative, and the tension between you rapidly grows too thick to cleave without physical contact.

Most often, you would take things into the bedroom but you're too caught up in the webs of Aomine's erotic intentions to find the will to abandon the cushioned give of the couch. His hands feel as if they're everywhere at once and despite the controlled temperature of the room, it feels like you're fighting a ravening fever.

You lie back per Aomine's unspoken instruction and let your knees fall apart to accommodate the width of his frame. He follows your lead like you're a single unit and no sooner than you drag the material of his shirt over his head is his face buried between your thighs. You card your fingers through his hair and lift your hips to grind friction against your sex. Aomine hooks his arms around your legs and rests his palms against the tremble of your thighs. He slides his tongue between your slicks folds and up your slit, right to the thrum of need pulsing through your clit. His flicks his tongue out against the sensitive organ before closing his mouth on a kiss of indelible suction.

Your back comes away from the couch and you tighten your grip on the blue strands catching between your fingers and contrasting with your skin. You exhale a shaky sigh but when Aomine moans something incoherent against the responsive nub beneath his tongue you wish you could call it back because you can't seem to catch your breath.

“Fuck,” Aomine whispers, and the breath of it sends a shudder rocketing down your spine. You whimper and tug at Aomine's hair in an effort to draw him back into his previous position but he's pulling away with a quiet chuckle on his spit-slick lips. “Don't worry, Princess. I'll make you come soon. I promise.”

“What's wrong with letting me come twice?” you ask, breathless and teeming with need.

“You're greedy today, aren't you?” Aomine purrs, his fingers working the waistband of his shorts down and over the jut of his hips and the heavy weight of his cock, hard and leaking precome. “I think Daddy's spoiled you too much, Princess.”

“Mm, is that even possible, Daddy?” You tilt your head a fraction and take the lower line of your mouth between the edges of your teeth. “I promise that I'll be a good girl.” You slide a hand down the pliable contour of your abdomen and slip two fingers between the heated margins of your arousal. “I'll let you do whatever you want to me.”

Aomine's lips curve into a dangerous smirk and the light of his eyes is quickly eclipsed by shadows that swamp his vision. He looks vicious and cruel, and the passion that emanates from his skin is hot enough to set the entire residence on fire. You swallow thickly and feel the flames of his stare licking at your skin, the heat of his desire devouring you like a conflagration. You can feel the slick response of your arousal doubling in its wetness, and it's no surprise because you find Aomine alluring enough in his natural state but when he inherits the bones of a predator and the hunger of a lion you're lost at the sea of his command.

Aomine spits into his palm and closes a hand around his shaft, stroking over himself idly and slicking the length of his erection with saliva. “I would suggest a little preparation but it looks to me like you're more than ready for me,” Aomine says, the low of his timbre vibrating somewhere low in his chest.

You smile sweetly—an expression of put-on innocence—and slip two digits into your wet heat in an equal display of obedience and agreement. You lift your hips and thrust your fingers as deep as your body will allow before drawing them free of your slippery cunt. “Is this ready enough, Daddy?” you ask, scissoring your fingers to catch slick in the light surrounding you.

“I was going to have you suck my cock before we got started but I think we'll skip right to the fucking,” Aomine says, a thin sheen of sweat visible on his skin when he moves forward to position himself at the end of the couch.

“Good thing,” you lilt, and slide back against the cushions just enough to make space for Aomine's ministrations. “I don't think my pussy can wait much longer. I need you now.”

“You're so fucking filthy,” Aomine notes, grinning so wide you can make out the points of his teeth. “I love it.”

You giggle quietly and lift your fingers to Aomine's lips as he positions himself up against your entrance. He takes them into his mouth with automatic acceptance that bears no thought and sucks the taste of your arousal from the salt and the heat of your skin. He shifts forward and the head of his cock catches at the stretch and give of your aperture, and with a single thrust, Aomine sheathes himself in your body. He exhales a breath he'd been unwittingly holding and begins to rock his hips to fuck into you like the cosmos itself is breaking apart. Everything around you ceases to exist and the only thing that matters is the manner in which Aomine is moving inside of you and the way pleasure is dancing out across your skin. Your nerves are tingling with anticipation and your blood is singing a song that yields unadulterated bliss.

“Why does it feel like I'm fucking you for the first time whenever we do this?” Aomine asks abstractedly, his hands bracing at your hips and his fingers digging the future promise of bruises into your flesh.

“Maybe I'm just that good,” you say, reaching up to grip the muscled shift of Aomine's shoulders.

“No, Princess, you _are_ that good. You're gonna kill me one of these days,” Aomine rasps, his breath coming in short gasps and his body drawing tight. “I can usually last a decent amount of time but with you, I feel like I'm going to... _fuck_...explode at any second.”

“Don't hold back, Daddy. Fuck me harder. Fuck me until you can't take it anymore. I want to feel you come inside of me, I want you to fill me up.” You drag the edges of your nails down Aomine's back and clench your inner muscles around the swell of his cock by means of underscoring your lascivious plea. Aomine cants his hips and fucks into you harder, the momentum of his thrusts the catalyst that takes him deeper. “Yes,” you hiss, tossing your head back against the couch and drawing a wealth of red welts down the length of Aomine's spine. “Like that. Fuck me like you want to break me.”

“I'm going to break you if you keep making those sounds. You're driving me crazy, Princess,” Aomine almost growls. His hands tighten on the makeshift handholds at your hips and he bows his head as he works himself into overdrive. His body is trembling and it's plain to see that his nerves are fraying, the very core of his control frazzled and stripped down to a single wire. He looks unhinged and wild, and when his eyes, blown-wide and eclipsed by lust, meet your own you can see something within him scatter into pieces. His mouth falls slack and his body pulls as taut as a bowstring. His shoulders shake beneath your sweat-damp palms and without delay, you can feel a spill of viscous heat flood the space between you as Aomine capitulates to his body's demands. His movements suddenly turn spasmodic as he shakes himself through the aftereffects of his climax. He tips forward and rests his forehead against your chest, his breath is coming hot and fast against your skin.

A feeling of jubilation surges through your veins and it takes almost no time at all when you press your fingers to your clit before you're coming apart in the waves of your own satisfaction. Your voice is lilted and almost high-pitched when you cry out, Aomine's name framed on your lips like a sanctimonious prayer. Your nerves feel as delicate as your bones feel weightless and you're grateful to Aomine when he wraps you up in his arms and holds you close to his chest.

“It's okay, Princess. I'm here,” Aomine soothes, his lips brushing the shell of your ear to send a shiver right into your bloodstream.

You inhale deeply in an effort to regain a measure of yourself and take Aomine's face between your trembling hands. “I love you, Daiki,” you tell him, your voice barely scratching at a whisper.

“I love you too, baby. Always,” is Aomine's reply, as warm as the heat emanating from his skin. He kisses you firmly on the lips as you gently stroke your fingers over the soft arcs of his features. You kiss until your fevered flesh turns over to a chill and your lips are no longer smooth but chapped and dry.

“I think we should have saved that bath; we could use one right about now,” Aomine says, his voice taking on an edge of tenderness not often heard.

“Can we just stay like this for a little longer?” you ask him, relishing the closeness of his body and the fervor of intimate afterglow.

“Anything for you, Princess,” Aomine answers, his lips bending into an arrogant smirk. He rolls over and onto his side, hugging you close to his chest. “Happy birthday, ____.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
